People Move On
by Micky Fine
Summary: When things seem to have ended, Josh and Donna reflect on the beginning. JD
1. Who are you?

TITLE: People Move On

AUTHOR: Micky Fine

DISCLAIMER: None of the characters from The West Wing belong to me. Some of the situations used in this story were initiated on the show and thus are not entirely mine. A few bits of dialogue from the show will also be used. See if you can pick it out. I'll give you a prize. No profit is being made from this fiction.

SPOILERS: Impact Winter, In the Shadow of Two Gunmen Part II, and 17 People are the main ones.

SUMMARY: When things seem to have ended, Josh and Donna reflect on the beginning. J/D

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, this general idea of exploring the very beginning of Josh and Donna's relationship has been rolling around in my head for a long time but the idea of how to do it just showed up a couple days ago. If I could place it ideally, this story would occur just after Josh's conversation with Leo about Donna leaving in Impact Winter. However, I would want it to come before his trip to Houston. So if you could insert a big space in there for this story it would be much appreciated. So would feedback.

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I'm sitting in my apartment staring at the cardboard box of stuff I carried home with me yesterday, wondering if Josh has even realized I'm gone yet. When I came back from Germany everything had seemed so full of promise. Hadn't Josh looked me in the eyes and essentially said that he was going to stop taking me for granted. And yet in less than six months I feel just the same as I did before I left for Gaza, under appreciated and ill-used. I'm ready to fly and Josh refuses to see that I've grown wings.

I feel a slight pang of guilt for not even giving Josh my two weeks' notice but then considering the unconventionality of our total working relationship it somehow doesn't feel unprofessional any longer. I'm looking forward to the new challenges I'll face on the Russell campaign, and yet I am somehow compelled to look back on the past, if only for today. I pull forward my box of White House mementos.

There are two large stacks of cue cards held together with elastic bands. These are the highlights from every project for which I've ever had to make notes for Josh. I pick up the first stack and randomly thumb through it until a few cards catch my eye. They're all on the process of how someone is put on a postage stamp. I find myself muttering aloud.

"Philately is fun, Josh."

I put down the cue cards and rummage through the other things in my box. There are the normal paraphernalia like hand lotion, lip-gloss, a hairbrush, and Kleenex; but in amongst all the necessities are items that have a much deeper psychological value. I pick up a large pile of photographs and flip through it. There are large group photos spanning both terms of President Bartlet and I gaze at all the familiar faces smiling up at me. I find myself staring at me, searching for some part of myself that I lost somewhere between Gaza, Germany, and home. But as I study my past self my eyes are drawn to the tall, dark-haired, omnipresent man by my side. I'm surprised to see that in photo after photo Josh is not smiling at the camera but at me or giving me that long inscrutable gaze that I still don't understand. The one that utterly confuses me and takes my breath away at the same time. The look that Josh is giving me in the framed photograph I have of us from Bartlet's second inauguration.

Placing the photos on my coffee table, I return back to the box and continue to browse. Campaign pins, newspaper articles, bumper stickers, and ticket stubs. All reminders of significant moments in my life that have taken place over the past seven years. Combing through the miscellanea I find a receipt for gas from Madison, Wisconsin and my Bartlet for America ID tag. Gazing at these two rather inconsequential items I am transported back to a time before I knew Joshua Lyman inside and out.

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"Here's your receipt, miss."

"Sorry?"

"Your receipt. For your gas."

"Right, thanks."

"You sure you don't want anything else?"

"No, I'm fine."

I continue to stand at the counter of the small gas station store and the attendant looks at me with growing suspicion. I suppose I'm not the picture of the ideal customer at the moment. My hair is mussed, my clothes are disheveled, and my eyes are bloodshot. As I put my change in my pocket I notice that my hands are shaking and I know my breathing is unsteady. At this moment I'm pretty sure the attendant is running through all the faces he saw on the last episode of America's Most Wanted and attempting to match mine to some serial killer's. I step back from the counter and head towards the refrigerators at the back containing beverages. Maybe I can find some grapefruit juice. Pink grapefruit juice always cheered me up. Gram used to give it to me when I was little and getting whiny. She always said it took the sourness right out of a body because it was so sour itself. I find myself wishing for Gram's common sense at this moment. She'd always gotten me through all of my previous break-ups.

Gripping the bottle of fruit juice I return to the counter. I give it to the attendant to scan and dig in my wallet for money. As I wait for my change, my attention is caught by the television.

"The story this morning is the 19 of the vote picked up by former New Hampshire Governor Jed Bartlet, who leapfrogged several democratic candidates to finish a surprising third. And we're going to go now to Governor Bartlet, who's standing by live... okay, I'm told we don't have the Governor at this moment."

My mind starts running away with me. I had been playing close attention to the Bartlet for America campaign when I wasn't busy working my two jobs and looking after Brett, my now ex-boyfriend. After leaving the place I had shared with Brett, I had planned on going home for a few weeks until I found a new apartment and a single, well-paying job. But now I started forming a new plan, one that as it blossomed felt more and more right. I was going to drive to New Hampshire. I was going to volunteer on the staff and prove myself as a fantastic addition to the team. So fantastic that hopefully they would put me on salary and I would be able to pursue my seemingly long-lost dream of a career in politics.

"Miss?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want your change?"

"Oh. Yes, thanks."

I feel myself perking up as I grip the few coins in my hand. I walk out to my rather beaten-up looking car with my head held high. I may have been dumped three days ago by the boyfriend I supported for six years because he suddenly felt that "we just don't fit" but I had a plan. Climbing into my car, I pop open my bottle of juice and take a long sip. The instinctive pucker that the sour liquid causes makes me smile. I turn the key in the ignition and point my car in the direction of Manchester, New Hampshire.

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I pull my coat closer to my body to ward off the pervasive chill common to New Hampshire in February. I tug on the door of the Bartlet for America campaign office and step inside. I suddenly understand the concept of organized chaos. There are people everywhere, half of whom are yelling. Yelling at each other, into phones, there is even one woman yelling at the fax machine. There are also mountains of paper as far as the eye can see. But despite the seeming anarchy there is an overall sense of order. Maybe they don't need my amazing organizational skills after all.

I peer at all of the people filling the relatively small building, attempting to find anyone who looks like they have some authority. In particular, I try to find someone who might be in charge of volunteers. However, despite the gust of cold wind and snow that accompanied my entrance, I am almost entirely ignored. I hold a brief internal debate about going around the office looking for someone in charge, but I somehow don't really feel comfortable interrupting all of this work.

Spying a coat rack, I hang up my coat and then wander through the campaign office, trying to look busy while actually finding something to do. My meanderings are halted when I suddenly see a familiar face. Three feet away from me is the candidate I've seen on television so many times, Governor Bartlet. He strikes me as a very commanding figure and I realize that this man has the air one would expect of a President. My contemplation of his powerful presence is interrupted when another man calls out to him.

"Jed, come with me."

A sudden sour expression crosses Bartlet's face, and I'm tempted to offer him some grapefruit juice.

"What now, Leo?"

"The staff wants to talk with you. C.J. in particular."

"C.J.'s the woman, right?"

"Yes, the tall, blonde woman who's in charge of all your media appearances."

"Ok, let's get this over with."

I inconspicuously watch as Bartlet and the man called Leo walk towards a small group of men and one tall woman, whom I assume is C.J. Despite the powerful presence of the Governor, I sense that he somehow isn't really prepared for the concept of winning the Democratic nomination and becoming President. Leaving the more crowded area of the building I head further back.

Here I find a row of offices. Or what apparently passes for an office here, as they are only slightly larger than a cubicle. I gaze at the names pasted in the window of each office. Leo McGarry's office is neat and there is a tall redheaded woman bustling around inside the small space, organizing various papers and answering the phone. I look at the successive line of names: Sam Seabourn, C.J. Cregg, Toby Ziegler, Josh Lyman. It is this last office that draws my attention the most.

Unlike the organized nature of the chaos near the front door of the campaign building, there is no sense of organization in this room whatsoever. There are boxes stacked haphazardly on most of the floor space and the shelving unit behind the desk is stuffed to capacity. This man is in desperate need of help on the neatness front. I have a sudden urge to go in and clean but I feel that maybe I should go and look again for the person in charge before I plunge in where I don't belong. As I stand in the doorway, torn as to what I should do, the phone rings.

This seems to me to be the answer to my internal struggle and I step into the office and scoop up the phone.

"Bartlet for America, Josh Lyman's office."

I am able to manage the conversation ably despite my total lack of instruction and I use the skills I had learned while working as an assistant in a law office. After hanging up my first phone call at what I hope will be my new job, I begin to tidy the office. Looking at the papers stacked on the desk, I organize them into piles, segregating by general subject. During this project, I discover a golden item, an appointment calendar for the as-yet-unseen Josh Lyman. As more phone calls come in, I am able to describe his schedule and predict the time when he will be able to call back.

The whole time I work in Josh's office alone, it remains fairly quiet, although there are several points when staffers come in, grab a file, and rush out. None of them give me more than a cursory glance. I continue to work uninterrupted in the small office when the phone rings again. Picking it up, I begin to talk.

"Josh Lyman … No, he's not available right now ... this afternoon? He's got a media session, and then a four o'clock with Finance... If you leave your name, I can give Josh the message when he gets back? ... Thank you very much."

As I speak with the man on the line, I observe a tall, somewhat handsome man with disheveled hair, rush into the office, grab a file, and I assume that he rushed back out until several seconds later when I still feel his presence. I hang up and turn around to face the first person in the campaign office that has actually taken an interest in me. I wait for him to speak.

"Hi."

"Hi."

So far so good.

"Who are you?"

Well, that's a fairly simple question. But maybe I should make it sound like I belong here.

"I'm Donna Moss. Who are you?"

"I'm Josh Lyman."

Crap. Oh, and now I'm going to blush.

"Ah."

"Yes."

Well, at least he hasn't called security. Time to hedge my bets.

"I'm your new assistant."

"Did I have an old assistant?"

So much for hedging. But seriously, what person in his position, which I assume to be one of a fair amount of power, doesn't have an assistant?

"Maybe not."

"Who are you?"

Oh yeah, this is going well.

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To be continued…


	2. I'll sleep on the floor

TITLE: People Move On

AUTHOR: Micky Fine

DISCLAIMER: See first chapter.

SPOILERS: See first chapter.

SUMMARY: See first chapter. Seeing the pattern?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to those of you who sent very kind reviews. They were greatly appreciated. This chapter is from Josh's POV but the content follows Donna's recollections almost immediately. Again, the placement of this chapter goes right after Josh's conversation with Leo in Impact Winter but before his sudden dash to Houston. Reviews enjoyed greatly.

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People move on? That's all Leo has to say when I tell him that this woman who means so much to me is gone? I've been avoiding dealing with it for most of today, but every time I pass her desk and see Marla sitting there it twists the invisible knife that was plunged into my gut when I found out. She left me. The one person who I never thought would go has indeed gone. And this time I don't think she's coming back.

But maybe this is a good thing. I had been worried about pulling Donna into some crazy hunt for the next Democratic candidate and now that she has gone I don't have to worry about her. And yet, I already feel an anxiety building over what will become of Donna now. She has a job lined up, I know, but I have always protected Donna, always watched out for her.

As my mind hurtles forward to what I should do next, some hidden corner of it urges me to look back and remember. I lean into the doorframe of C.J.'s former office and resting my head against the hard corners of the wood, I close my eyes. I promise myself that this will only be a brief moment of recollection. There are millions of things I need to think out right now, but instead I think back to a time before I had fallen in love with Donnatella Moss.

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"Look. I think I can be good at this. I think you might find me valuable."

I actually study the face of this odd young woman for the first time since I ran across her answering my phone. There are so many emotions on her face: desperation, pride, and determination. I consider the passion with which this woman spoke to me a moment ago. She's dedicated. And after a brief survey of my office I realize that she's organized too. She's also the first volunteer I've met who actually followed me when I started walking. Something deep inside me says that this woman isn't flaky and that her last statement could turn out to be truer than I could ever imagine.

The ringing of the telephone on the desk interrupts my consideration of this woman. We hold eye contact for several seconds longer and it is the pleading that I see there that makes my final decision for me. I nod in the direction of the phone.

"Go ahead."

I watch her with an odd sense of pride, considering I met her less than five minutes ago.

"Bartlet for America, Josh Lyman's office ... uh, yes ... I think I'm going to have someone from the press office get back to you if it relates to ... yes ... uh, yes."

I take off my Bartlet for America ID tag and hold it out to her. When she takes it from me, our hands brush and I am surprised by the tingle that runs down my spine. Looking at the laminated piece of paper, she turns back to face me and gives me the most amazing smile I've ever seen. She continues to speak into the phone.

"Yes."

I smile and head back out into the noise of the campaign office. Before I walk out of sight of my office, I look back just in time to see Donna hang up the phone and then pump her fist in victory. Then regaining her composure, she drapes my old ID tag over her neck and returns back to organizing my office. Again I feel the inexplicable swelling of pride but it's interrupted when I hear Governor Bartlet yelling at another staffer. With an internal groan, I head out to find Leo so that he can corral our candidate.

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I come back to my office later that night around 9 o'clock. For the most part the building is empty, with just the few of us who returned from the fundraiser that was held earlier in the evening. I'm surprised to see a light on in my office and am even more shocked to see Donna still working. There isn't a single volunteer in sight except for the young Ms. Moss. Once again her dedication impresses me and the small swell of pride at finding such a gem reappears. I step across the threshold expecting a greeting and instead I am thoroughly ignored.

"Donna?"

"Oh. Hi."

"Hi."

After her brief greeting she continues to ignore me in favor of what appears to rather dull paperwork. I skirt around where she is sitting on the floor with a stack of papers and a cardboard box and sit behind my desk. I stretch and yawn and then glance at the papers that are centered in front of me.

"Hey, these are the numbers for South Carolina that I was looking for this afternoon."

"I know. I heard you yelling about it. I ran across them while I was cleaning tonight. I would have phoned you and told you I found them, but you didn't give me a contact number."

"Oh, yeah, I should do that."

I pat around my desk to find a scrap piece of paper and a pen, which becomes a moot effort when Donna sticks a pad of Post-Its and a pen under my nose.

"Thanks."

"No problem, it's what I'm supposed to do, right?"

"I guess. Honestly, the assistants I had when I worked for Hoynes weren't nearly as efficient as you."

"Hang on. You worked for Hoynes?"

"Yeah."

"You worked on his campaign?"

"Un-huh."

"And you switched campaigns to work for Bartlet?"

"Yup."

"Good. Hoynes just doesn't strike me as someone who knows what he's standing for."

I give Donna a startled look. It amazes me that despite the fact she has never met the man, she analyzed the exact problem that I had with his campaign.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that?"

"What makes you think that?"

"The look you just gave me."

"Oh, no, Donna. I was just surprised at how accurate your perceptions are."

"Well, I'm a relatively good judge of character. Until it comes to boyfriends. But that doesn't really matter to you."

I'm almost tempted to ask her about her past boyfriends but then realize that that would be slightly inappropriate, considering I just hired her today. I'm trying to think of another topic of conversation when she beats me to it.

"You guys are taking commercial flights to Charleston?"

"Yeah."

"What flight are you on?"

"Umm, I had it written down here somewhere."

Once again I search the top of my newly organized desk.

"Was it on a small scrap of paper?'

"Yes."

"This it?"

She hands me a small slip of paper covered in a jumble of letters and numbers. I quickly interpret it for her, and she jots down the information. We then go through several other small pieces of paper she found. She writes down what exactly they mean and then stows the notes inside my calendar. Finally, she gets up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside my desk and sits in one of the chairs across from me. She stretches and there are several audible cracking sounds. She rolls her head, causing her neck to crack and then returns her attention to me.

"What time is it?"

"A little after nine."

"Wow, I completely lost track of time. I hope what I did is ok."

I survey my office and am amazed to see just how clean she's made it. I'm suddenly sorry that we're leaving for Charleston tomorrow because this office would be a pleasure to work in now.

"Donna, it's amazing. Seriously, I've never had anyone work for me that could organize the chaos that tends to follow me."

"Well, I have a knack for stuff like this."

"There's an understatement."

She smiles at the compliment and then closes her eyes. I watch as exhaustion overwhelms her face for a brief moment but when her blue eyes meet mine once again all signs of fatigue have disappeared.

"So, what do you need to take to Charleston? I talked to Margaret this afternoon, and if I have the boxes in front of Leo's office for first thing tomorrow they can be couriered there and should arrive some time tomorrow night."

I reel off a list of what I need and Donna quickly fills two cartons with file folders and stacks of papers. I then watch amazed as she hauls each of them up individually and carries them down to Leo's office. After carting the boxes out, Donna flops once more into the chair across for me. This time the exhaustion appears and doesn't go away. She wipes her eyes and then amazingly gives me a smile.

"Anything else I need to do tonight?"

"No. Honestly, Donna, it's shocking just how much you have done."

"Thanks."

We both sit in silence for a moment surveying Donna's handiwork.

"So, should I just meet you at the airport tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I really hadn't planned on coming by here, so meeting you at the airport would be best."

"Ok, I'll meet you at the counter at 10."

"Great."

We both get up and I gather my coat from the corner where I threw it that morning. I follow Donna and turn out the lights. I decide to wait for her as she grabs her coat from where she left it. I wave at Toby and Sam who are doing a blow-by-blow of the speech from earlier that evening. Then I guide Donna out of the campaign office.

Donna points at where she parked her car.

"Well, I'm over there."

I give the vehicle an incredulous look.

"You drove that from Wisconsin?"

"She may not look like much but she runs better than you'd think."

I nod and head in the opposite direction to where I left my rental car but am halted by her voice.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for letting me stay."

She gives me a long smile and then pulling her coat closer to her body she walks off to her car. I watch her drive off and then walk to my car. There definitely is something different about her.

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I'm stuffing my clothes in random order into my suitcase at 8 a.m. that morning when my cell phone rings. I check the ID and don't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

I am greeted by what sounds like the screeching metal makes when it's pulled to its limits. There also seems to be a voice but I am unable to discern exactly who it is and what he or she is saying. I try again.

"Hello?"

The screeching sounds suddenly cease and I am able to hear the speaker this time.

"Josh?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Donna Moss. You know, your new assistant?"

"I know who you are, Donna. I just didn't recognize your voice. What can I do for you?"

"I know this is a lot to ask and that you barely know me and that you probably have many more important things to do…"

"Donna, just ask."

"Could you come and pick me up?"

Twenty minutes later I'm parked in front of a wrecking yard, helping Donna to load her two suitcases into the back of my rental car. A bitter wind is blowing and it's a great relief when we climb into the shelter and warmth of the car. We sit in silence for a few moments, absorbing the heat from the radiators before I break the silence.

"What the hell are you doing at a place like this?"

I gaze at Donna quizzically and she turns to me with a meek and apologetic face.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have phoned. I should have just called a cab. It's just, cabs cost money and, well, that would kind of defeat the purpose of coming here…"

"Donna."

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever answer a question directly?"

"Sure."

"Well, could you try answering this one? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Umm, you know how I said yesterday that I would sell my car so that I could pay my own way?"

"Yes. And just as a note, that wasn't a direct answer, that was answering a question with a question."

She gives me an almost smug grin and then continues with her explanation.

"I wasn't exaggerating. I just sold my car so that I could pay for my plane ticket."

"Donna, are you serious?"

"No, Josh, I just think it's hilariously funny to come down to a wrecking yard, have someone else take my car, and then call my new boss to ask for a ride."

"Sarcasm is disturbing coming from someone so young."

Donna rolls her eyes at me and then faces forward. I give her a sidelong glance, astounded that this woman would go to such lengths to keep a job that she isn't even being paid for. I then turn the key in the ignition and drive towards the airport. I have a feeling it's going to be an interesting flight.

--------

"Did you know that in 1893 Queen Isabella of Spain was the first woman to be put on an American commemorative coin?"

"No, Donna, I didn't know that but you've been inundating me with trivia since we got on the plane. Then you told me more when we got into the rental car. Do you think that maybe you could just take a break from practicing for Jeopardy?"

"Is that a polite way of asking me to shut up?"

"Yes."

I sigh with relief when Donna stops talking. She's a wonderful person, and I've found her tendency to spout trivia endearing, but there's only so much useless information one can listen to before he goes insane.

I continue to navigate towards the head campaign office for South Carolina. The car is silent for several minutes and then an odd rummaging sound comes from the passenger seat. I look at Donna out of the corner of my eye and see her digging in her purse.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm attempting to find my wallet."

"Shouldn't that be pretty easy to do?"

"Josh, you have no idea as to the sheer amount of stuff a woman keeps in her purse. If you did, you would now understand why I'm having issues finding my wallet. Ah-ha!"

"Did you really have to shout? We are in a small space."

"Sorry. Habit."

Silence reigns once more. I glance over quickly at Donna and then watch her from the corner of my eye. She opens her wallet and begins to count the money within. Then she recounts it. A look of intense thought crosses her face and then she shrugs. She quickly checks her change purse and seems to find no significant amount of money there because she sighs in a rather defeated manner.

"You ok?"

She looks at me, apparently startled from her contemplation. She gives me a bright smile that doesn't remove the worried look from her eyes.

"I'm fine."

I nod, unconvinced.

"So, are you going to turn left up ahead?"

"Why?"

"Well, considering all of the Bartlet for America signs covering that building, I would imagine it's the campaign office."

I realize that she's correct and switch on my turn signal. We pull into the lot in front of the building and get out of the car. Both of us stretch and once more enjoy the warmer weather common to South Carolina. I take a deep breath of the tangy air and then straightening my shoulders I prepare to head into the chaos of yet another campaign office.

I hold open the door for Donna to go in ahead of me and then stride into the building. I smile at the noise that washes over us and revel in the busyness resultant of the candidate coming to this office. Quickly surveying the layout, I turn right in the hopes of finding my office but I'm halted when Donna grips my arm.

"Donna, I've barely known you twenty-four hours. I usually tend to wait forty-eight before I allow someone to take advantage of my person."

She gives me a look and then points directly in front of her.

"Your office is over there."

Seeing my name taped to the window of yet another small office, barely larger than a cubicle, I head in that direction. Donna follows on my heels and we both survey the pristinely empty room. Turning to Donna, I see disappointment cross her face. I'm puzzled and then realize it's because she has nothing to do.

"Donna, why don't you try to commandeer a desk for yourself? Make sure it's close to my office. I don't want to have to go on a quest to find you every time I need you."

"Sure."

"I'm just going to go see if I can find Sam. By the time I'm back we'll have plenty to do. Trust me."

She smiles at me and then heads off on her latest assignment. I'm tempted to watch her duke it out for a desk but then decide against it. I really do have to talk to Sam.

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"Who's the blonde?"

"Have normal greetings disappeared from the English language? Is there something wrong with 'Hey, Josh. How was your flight?'"

"Hey, Josh. How was your flight? Who's the blonde?"

I roll my eyes at Sam's dogged persistence, shrug, and flop into the chair across from his desk inside his excuse of an office.

"My flight was fine. 'The blonde' as you insist on calling her is my new assistant, Donna Moss."

"You hired an assistant? How come you get an assistant and I don't?"

"Ok, first of all, you share an assistant with Toby whereas before Donna I didn't have one at all."

"Hey, you had several volunteers who tried. You just scared them off."

"I didn't scare them off."

Sam gives me a look.

"Ok, maybe I shouted at a few of them, but if that's all it takes to scare them off, they really shouldn't be working in politics."

"Right. But seriously, when did you have time to hire an assistant?"

"You want the truth?"

Sam nods.

"She hired herself. I went into my office yesterday and she was just there. And technically she's a volunteer."

"She just showed up in Manchester yesterday, flew to Charleston with you today, and she's not even being paid?"

"Un-huh."

"You think maybe she's unbalanced?"

"She's not crazy, Sam. She just has a huge amount of dedication and believes that if she works hard enough, I'll put her on salary. She's probably right about that, actually."

Sam stares at me for several long moments.

"Well, I'll take your word for it. I just have one last question and then you won't hear anything else from me about it. You didn't let her stay just because she's tall, blonde, and leggy, right?"

"Sam, I'm not stupid. That is definitely not why I let her stay. If you could have just heard her yesterday…"

"Ok, I trust you. Just make sure you get a hold of her FBI file. If she's going to start coming everywhere with you…"

"Yeah. I put in the request first thing this morning."

"Good."

We sit in silence for a few moments until a voice drifts in through the open door.

"Look, I'm glad you've worked for Bartlet's campaign for so long but I really need this desk. My boss's office is just over there and it would be a lot more convenient if I could be close to it."

An irate voice follows.

"Honey, I don't care who your boss is, this is my desk. It's been my desk since this office opened. It will continue to be my desk. I don't care who your boss is, bitch."

Donna's voice follows again at a reasonable and even tone.

"You don't have to start calling me names. Now, is it just the desk you object to me taking or is it the place where the desk is?"

A snide voice comes back.

"Which do you think?"

"Well, is there any way we could settle this?"

"You could go back to your trailer park up north and leave me alone, Yankee-bitch."

I get up and Sam follows suit. I'm about to intercede and tell this obnoxious woman that she can give up her desk entirely because we don't want people like her on our campaign. However, my intentions to protect Donna are halted when she speaks again.

"I did not grow up in a trailer park, I grew up in a condo outside of Madison, Wisconsin. But that's not really important. I think you should consider how the people who do live in trailer parks would feel. I have a feeling that the voting demographic that do would be unhappy with what you were just insinuating about them. You represent your candidate to everyone no matter where they live and you should treat every potential voter equally. That includes me. And can I just point out that the candidate you're supporting is a Yankee?"

The other woman looks chagrined after Donna's speech, which was delivered without raising her voice once. Suddenly, she spies Sam and I standing in the doorway of Sam's office. Her shoulders slump slightly.

"I'll clean out my stuff. The desk should be free for you by this afternoon."

"Thanks."

Donna lets out a deep breath and then turns to see Sam and I staring at her.

"Hey, Josh. I got a desk. Is this Sam?"

She strides forward and shakes Sam's hand.

Sam turns his head towards me and speaks in a low voice.

"I get what you meant before. She's amazing."

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I come in to the office early the next morning. The boxes Donna had sent by courier had been delayed by some snow in New Hampshire and were supposed to arrive this morning. I smile when I see the familiar cartons set in front of my office door.

I stop short, puzzled. I didn't close my office door last night. I shrug it off, thinking that maybe some staffer just shut the door when he left last night. I open the door a crack, pick up the boxes and then walk into my office. Where I nearly fall over.

I set the boxes down on a chair, close my office door behind me, and blink, making sure that I'm not hallucinating. When I re-open my eyes it becomes obvious that they weren't deceiving me. There is in fact a blonde woman sleeping on my floor. Her winter coat is bundled up under her head as a pillow and a small blanket is draped over her.

I kneel down beside Donna's sleeping form and shake her a little.

"Donna. Donna."

She stirs, stretches, and then turns over. Her eyes open and I gaze into her still tired face. She gives me a brief confused look, which quickly changes to embarrassment. She buries her face in her makeshift pillow and then peers back up at me. I speak first.

"You really weren't exaggerating."

--------

To be continued…


	3. No Coffee

TITLE: People Move On

AUTHOR: Micky Fine

DISCLAIMER: Check out the beginning.

SUMMARY: Didn't you read that already? It's why you're here, right?

SPOILERS: Right there in the first chapter.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, thank you for the wonderful reviews; they're better than candy. This chapter is going to switch in between Josh and Donna's POV so I'll try to give you a clue as to who is narrating. Hope you enjoy this and any comments are very welcome.

--------

"C.J.!"

I hurry up to the tall woman who, like the rest of us, is hurrying off to go do one of the endless important things that needs doing.

"Josh, I really have to go review this tape of the speech…"

"I won't take long I promise."

C.J. gives me a look and then turns to face me with her arms crossed.

"Ok. But before you start, what was with the Goldilocks sleeping in your office this morning?"

"Actually that's what I want to talk to you about. That's my new assistant, Donna."

"Ah, Sam told me about her. She sounds like a real find."

"I'm glad you approve, C.J., 'cause I need you to do me a really big favor."

"What?"

"Well, Donna sold her car to pay for her plane ticket to get here, and she doesn't have enough money to pay for a hotel room. That's why she slept on the floor in my office. So, I was wondering if you would be willing to let her stay in your room."

C.J. gives me a slightly blank look.

"I know it's a lot to ask and I would have offered to let her stay in my room…"

"Josh, you didn't…"

"No, I knew you'd have a fit and the press would have a field day."

"Good. Well, I'll talk to her and check to see if I can put up with her. If I can, I'll ask her to room with me."

"Great, thanks C.J."

I'm so grateful that I'm tempted to hug her but instead I just give her my patented dimpled grin and go off to do something useful to the campaign.

--------

"Donna?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm C.J. Cregg."

"It's nice to meet you. What can I do for you? Do you need to see Josh?"

"Actually, I came to see you."

"Me? What for?"

There is a long pause during which I suddenly feel like a beauty pageant contestant. C.J. looks me up and down, surveys my desk, picks up the family picture on my desk and then replaces it. Then she stares into my eyes and I suddenly have an inkling as to what a Vulcan mind meld is like. Then she smiles as if she's made a vital decision.

"Well, I noticed that you were sleeping in Josh's office this morning."

I feel a slow blush creeping into my face.

"Umm, yeah, you see…"

"It's fine, Donna, you don't have to explain it to me. I was just wondering if you wanted to share my hotel room. It's been paid for already but they gave me two beds and I can obviously only use one. Plus, it would be nice to have a roommate."

It's my turn now to consider C.J. and I quickly see that this woman is being fantastically generous and that I would be a fool to turn her down on account of pride. I smile.

"That sounds nice."

"Great."

C.J. stands up, sends an almost surreptitious glance in the direction of Josh's office, and then turns back to me.

"I'll see you later."

"Later."

I smile as I watch C.J. walk away and then peek my head inside Josh's office.

"Josh?"

He looks up.

"What's up?"

"Thank you."

I can see him preparing to act clueless so I give him a look. Seeing that I won't be fooled he just gives me a dimpled grin instead.

"You're welcome."

--------

"DONNA!"

I wait several seconds until Donna appears looking rather frenzied. Her hair is slightly askew and I'm suddenly curious.

"What were you just doing?"

"Wrestling with the photocopier. What do you need?"

I open my mouth, then absorb what she just said, and am about to question her further when she gives me a look that says, "Don't ask." I shrug and then continue with the reason I called her in here. I pick up the file and start reading aloud.

"Donnatella Moss. Birth date, well we'll skip the boring bits. Father: Irish. Mother: Italian. 3 siblings, two brothers, one sister. Apparently your school years were filled with spelling bees, band concerts, flute solos, and a Catholic high school. St. Luke's Secondary School. Did you wear uniforms?"

Donna is staring at me agape. She blinks and then regains her powers of speech.

"What the hell is this?"

"Your FBI file."

"You have my…I have an FBI file?"

"Your cat has an FBI file."

"How detailed is that thing?"

"Well, it confirms everything you told me about your college years. An interesting assortment jobs you had after you dropped out. Waitress, secretary, receptionist, sales clerk…"

Donna is rubbing her face with her hands.

"This is so unfair. You call me in here to make fun of me and then you're going to kick me off the campaign. Think you could just cut to the last part?"

"Donna, I'm not going to kick you off the campaign."

She looks at me surprised and I return the look.

"Why would I get rid of you? You're doing a fantastic job."

"Well, you have my file so I thought that that meant…"

"Donna, we have to check the files of everyone who works on the campaign with the candidate."

"Oh."

She smiles at me.

"So did you holler at me for any particular reason other than this?"

"Nah, I just wanted to call you Donnatella."

She rolls her eyes at what I'm sure she thinks is my juvenile behavior.

"How did you end up with that one anyway?"

"Well, Dad picked Donna, which means lady in Italian but Mama didn't really love it. So, when Dad went to get some coffee Mama had them change my name to Donnatella. My Dad still hasn't gotten over it and Mama still laughs at him. She tells him that Moss women are far more wily than the Moss men think."

"I'll keep that in mind. You're an interesting woman, Donnatella."

"You have no idea."

--------

I'm so hungry. I'm pretty sure my stomach has started digesting itself in an effort to gain some form of nutrition. I resist the urge to go and get something from the vending machine and instead have another sip of water. I again mentally break down how much money I have left and how much I'll need to get to South Dakota in a few weeks. I then take another drink of water. I really need to start getting a paycheck soon before I have no internal organs left. My contemplation of my lack of food is interrupted when Josh emerges from his office again and approaches my desk.

"Hey, Donna."

"Hello, Josh."

"Hungry?"

"Why?"

"Well, a bunch of us were planning on going out for dinner tonight and I was hoping you would come so that you could meet everyone else."

"By everyone else you mean Toby."

"Well, umm, yeah. I think it might be easier for you if you met while there's food around. He might be distracted a little."

"I don't know why you're so concerned. C.J. says Toby is a really good man."

"Oh, he is, he can just be, well…Toby."

"Un-huh."

"So, you want to come?"

"I don't know…"

"C'mon. I'll buy you an appetizer."

"Promise?"

"Sure."

"Ok."

--------

The appetizer is gone. It had arrived just before I went to the bar to get a drink and now that I've returned it's gone. How could one woman possibly eat so quickly? I look at Donna who is now sipping a glass of water and then shrug.

"So, what's everyone having?"

C.J. and Sam both detail their plans for pasta dishes while Toby mumbles something about a hamburger. I turn to Donna with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm full."

I blink.

"You're full?"

"Yup."

"Donna that appetizer wasn't that big."

"I have a small stomach."

"Ok."

I give Donna another look and am about to insist she get something when the waitress arrives and I forget all about it. I then have to send my hamburger back three times before its charred to my tastes. When the burger is finally a crispy critter I settle in to wrestle with my meal. As I'm chewing my burger I watch Toby. For once he isn't giving me that long look that I've been getting every time I mention Donna to him. In fact, he isn't watching me at all. I turn to see what he is staring at and watch Donna steal a fry off of my plate.

She chews it slowly and then takes a long drink of water. I continue to chew and pretend like I haven't noticed. A few seconds later she snitches another fry. I'm astounded. I've never had any employees who have eaten my food. In fact, I've had one girlfriend and a few good friends that felt comfortable enough to share food with me. I've known Donna less than two weeks and she's already pilfering my fries. I don't know whether to be flattered or concerned. I watch her take another fry.

"Donna, are you sure you aren't hungry?"

She quickly grabs her glass of water and takes a huge swallow.

"I told you before, Josh, I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

I shrug and turn back to my burger. Over the top of the bun I make eye contact with Toby who gives me an indescribable look and then turns his attention back to Donna who has just stolen another fry.

--------

"Did you know Francis Scott Key used pencil to write 'The Star Spangled Banner'?"

"No, Donna, I didn't."

"I did."

"You would, Sam."

"Josh, be nice to Sam."

"I am."

"Un-huh."

"Donna, do you know how much the director of Gone With The Wind was fined for the line, 'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.'?"

"$5000."

"Can you gentlemen please excuse me? I want to talk to Donna for a few minutes."

I turn to see that Toby has approached our group where Sam and I have been annoying Josh with trivia. Toby turns to me and gestures that I go ahead of him to his office. I do as he indicates and once we reach his cubicle-like space he closes the door.

"So, Toby, what can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to talk to you for a little bit, Donna."

"Ok."

There is a long pause during which Toby gives me a thoughtful look.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, no, Donna. I know it may be hard to tell but I'm very impressed with you. You have spunk and panache. You've put up with Josh for two weeks and not gone crazy. You have a fantastic work ethic and you know how to talk to people."

I feel myself blush at Toby's compliments.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So, why did you call me in here if it isn't to disapprove of me?"

He gives me a long look.

"Donna, how much money do you have?"

I give a start at the forwardness of his question.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, its just things I've noticed. I almost never see you eat anything. Just a donut in the morning and lots of water all day. And last night in the restaurant that appetizer that Josh bought you disappeared faster than coffee at Starbucks. And then you were stealing fries from his plate."

I blush at the last statement. I didn't think anyone had noticed. I suddenly feel the need to preserve the Moss pride.

"I'm fine. I just don't eat much. And the thing with the fries last night is a habit from when I used to go out with my boyfriend."

Toby seems almost convinced until my stomach gives an unmistakable growl. Then he gives me a look.

"I haven't had my donut yet."

I straighten out my shoulders and silently dare him to humiliate me by telling Josh that I haven't been eating because I don't have enough money. He makes eye contact with me and then shrugs, admitting defeat. He then opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a pie.

"Want a slice?"

--------

Donna slips quietly into my office, places a few files on my desk, removes other ones and is about to leave again when I speak.

"Hey, Donna?"

She turns around.

"Yes?"

"What did Toby want to talk to you about?"

"Nothing. He just complimented me on my work. Oh, and he gave me a piece of pie."

She turns to leave but stops when I speak again.

"He gave you a piece of pie?"

"Yes."

"He gave you a piece of pie?"

"I just told you, yes."

"Donna, he never gives anyone pie."

"Well, he gave some to me. Anything else?"

"Nah."

Donna leaves and is replaced by Sam.

"Hey, Josh, we're going to have a meeting in a few minutes."

"Ok, I'm coming."

I finish reading one of the files Donna put on my desk and then head out into the relatively quiet main office. Half of the staff and all of the volunteers are at the site where we'll be holding a town hall meeting this evening. I see Toby, Sam, and C.J. seated at a small table near the window and I saunter over to join them. As I walk towards the group I pass Donna.

"Hey, Donna?"

"Yes, Josh?"

"Could you use that amazing talent of yours to get me a decent cup of coffee?"

Donna gives me a look I don't understand then and then says slowly, "You want me to get you coffee?"

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

Donna gives me another look but then heads off in the direction of the coffee pot so I dismiss it and continue towards the group. I plop down in the chair next to Sam.

"Before we start I want everyone to know that Toby gave down a slice of pie."

Sam gives Toby an injured look.

"You give her pie and you won't give me any?"

Toby mumbles under his breath.

"What was that, Toby?"

"I said you can afford to buy your own pie."

The sentence strikes me as odd and I'm about to ask what Toby means when I hear Donna's voice from just behind me.

"Here's your coffee, Josh."

And suddenly my nerves are filled with the sensation of having icy cold black coffee poured right into my lap. Toby and Sam are attempting to hide their smiles and C.J. is laughing outright. I crane my neck backwards and see Donna standing there with an empty frosted mug in hand and a gleam in her eye. She then hands me a roll of paper towel.

"I put a change of clothes in your office."

There is a long pause as C.J., Sam, and Toby attempt to get themselves under control while I attempt to soak up all the liquid that was poured into my lap. Once it is quiet Donna speaks again.

"Anyone else want coffee?"

"No," comes from the group simultaneously.

"Ok."

Donna then turns on her heel and heads back to her desk. I hop up from my chair and walk quickly after her. I then take her arm in a loose grip and lightly push her towards my office. I close the door and then let myself go.

"What the hell was that?"

"That was me making a point."

"And the point is?"

"I don't get you coffee."

"Why? I've had fifteen different assistants who all got me coffee."

"Well, maybe you should hire one of them and I'll go."

"What, no, Donna, that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I just want to know why you won't get me coffee."

"You really don't."

There is a look in Donna's eyes that I can't describe but I automatically feel my throat constricting in sympathy. She looks angry, sad, and defeated all at the same time. It's enough to break anyone's heart. I'm about to say that I really do want to know why Donna has such an aversion to bringing me coffee when the door opens and Sam's head pops in.

"Sorry to interrupt but, Josh, if you're going to change you need to do it now. We're leaving for the hall a little earlier than planned. Leo wants us to talk over a few things with the Governor before the meeting."

"Ok."

The door closes again.

Donna's head has started drooping and I notice that she's holding onto the back of the visitor's chair with white knuckles. I come around the desk and lift up her chin. Her blue eyes are inexplicably watery and her face is pale.

"Donna, it's fine. You don't have to get me coffee. It's probably better if I get it myself. I'll realize just how much I drink everyday."

Donna gives me a weak smile.

"Well, I should get out and let you change."

She indicates with her hand towards the pile of clean clothes, neatly folded, on my desk chair. I look at her puzzled.

"How on earth did you get those?"

"Ah, we Moss women. Very wily."

"I see."

Donna's hand is on the doorknob when I speak again.

"Don't think you're going to get out of telling me why you won't bring me coffee."

"I didn't think you'd let me."

With that she disappears out the door and I turn to the clothes that she somehow managed to steal from my suitcase in my hotel room. I lift up the shirt and mutter to myself.

"Very wily."

--------

It's amazing to realize just how many people are actually working on the campaign in South Dakota. When did I come to this conclusion? Well, about five minutes ago when they started streaming into the office to celebrate the success of the town hall meeting that just ended. There are people everywhere, most of them carrying an alcoholic beverage in some shape or form. I would join in the celebration but I'm suddenly feeling tired so I go into Josh's office and flop into his desk chair. The sounds of the reveling just outside the door carry into the room and leaning back I let the noise just wash over me.

I'm on the verge of sleep when Josh bounces into the office.

"Donnatella, how are you sleeping right now?"

"Well, I wasn't sleeping just yet."

"Donna, you can't sleep now, the Governor just did a fantastic job. Like a fantastically fantastic job."

"Josh, have you been drinking?"

"Not yet."

"Ok."

I lean my head back, as a sudden wave of fatigue washes over me once more.

"C'mon Donna, have one drink with me and then you can come back and sleep for a little while."

He's tugging at my hand like my nephews do when they want me to play. I sigh in resignation and then stand up slowly. Josh pulls on my hand and then forges ahead of me into the growing crowd. I attempt to follow him but everyone wants to toast me for no other reason than that I'm there. I'm pretty sure that if I were a houseplant they'd toast me. Josh reaches the fridge and pulls out two beers. He turns to hand one to me but his face suddenly lines with concern.

"Donna, are you ok? You look really pale."

I attempt to answer but I'm distracted by the sudden appearance of green spots on my vision and the feeling of being too warm. Suddenly I feel myself falling and everything goes black.

--------

I freak out.

"Donna! Donna! Donnatella Moss!"

The people standing close by crowd around attempting to see what happened and I feel overwhelmed and frightened right down to the pit of my stomach.

"C'mon, Donna, wake up."

I'm holding her hand and gently calling her name when the crowd surrounding us parts and Abbey Bartlet strides forward.

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

Abbey grabs Donna's wrist and feels for a pulse. She then puts a wrist to Donna's forehead. Her brow wrinkles and she pulls a small flashlight out of her pocket and checks Donna's pupils. Then she checks her pulse again.

"Ok, let's move her."

Toby and Sam move forward to help me but I scoop Donna up and follow Mrs. Bartlet into Leo's office and lay Donna down on the couch there. Toby, Sam, and C.J. follow us in but Abbey closes the door before anyone else can enter.

"Alright, now who can tell me anything important about her."

"Well, she was looking really tired when she was in my office before. I think she was almost asleep when I came in. I dragged her out there and just before she fainted I noticed that she looked really pale."

"Hmm."

Toby looks internally conflicted for a moment and then speaks.

"She hasn't been eating."

"What?" both Mrs. Bartlet and I ask simultaneously.

"Or at least, she hasn't been eating properly."

"What do you mean?" I ask again.

"Haven't you noticed? All she ever eats is one of the donuts that are around every morning and then she drinks lots of water. Occasionally someone shared some leftovers with her but mostly she's been living on a donut a day. Why do you think I gave her a piece of pie today?"

I lean back against Leo's desk and study Donna's face. She's still too pale and I notice that she's unhealthily thin. I'm gazing at her face when Abbey's voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Do you think it's an eating disorder?"

"No, she just doesn't have money. Actually, she probably has money but I think she's saving it for when we leave for South Dakota."

"Why, how much is she being paid?"

I speak slowly.

"She isn't."

Mrs. Bartlet whirls on me.

"She isn't being paid?"

"No, she's technically a volunteer."

"The woman who's been working her butt off for you isn't being paid?"

"No."

"For the love of…Josh, put this woman on payroll."

"Yes, ma'am."

"When she wakes up give her something to eat. Sugar and carbs would be best for right now. They'll hit her bloodstream fastest."

With that, Dr. Bartlet opens the door and strides back into the main office. Toby, Sam, and C.J. follow her out. I'm left sitting in the visitor's chair in Leo's office watching Donna breathe.

--------

I walk meekly into the office the next morning. I feel like I'm being watched by everyone and walk with my head ducked down towards my desk. I've just removed my jacket and put down my purse when Josh pokes his head out of his office.

"Donna, can you come in here a minute?"

I nod. He disappears again and I square my shoulders in preparation for a lecture. When I woke up last night in Leo's office, Josh had been very polite and concerned. He told me I had fainted. Then he took me out for ice cream. He didn't say a word about why I had passed out but I knew that someone would have told him that I hadn't been eating. He took me back to the hotel, walked me to my room, gave my shoulder a squeeze and then walked towards his own room. I figured that he didn't want to freak out at me so shortly after I had fallen to the floor due to a lack of sufficient blood sugar levels.

I had dreaded coming into the office this morning, especially after the lecture I got from C.J. this morning. I lecture she gave me while watching me eat every bite of the breakfast that she ordered for me. If C.J. was freaking out like this I knew Josh would be worse. Josh, I knew, had a reputation for freaking out.

I walk quietly into his office and then close the door behind me. I wait for him to start speaking but he studiously ignores me in favor of the file he's reading. Finally, I speak softly.

"Hey."

He looks up.

"Donna."

"Yes?"

He studies me for a few moments and then speaks again.

"I'm not going to lecture you, C.J. did that for you already I'm sure."

I nod.

"I just want to say that, you don't have to keep secrets from me. I know how much pride is involved when it comes to money and being self-sufficient but you can tell me if you're having trouble. With anything. I know I'm your boss, but I also like to think that we've become friends."

"We have," I say softly.

"Good. Now, as a friend, I want you to know you can tell me anything you want and if you're having problems please let me know. Oh, and don't ever stop eating again. I really don't want to have to watch you faint again. It's not good for my health or yours."

I give him a wry grin and turn to go.

"Oh, wait, I have something for you."

I turn back and he hands me an envelope.

"What's this?"

"Your pay slip. You'll notice that it covers everything from the first day since you 'volunteered'."

I look at him, surprised, and I feel tears starting to well up. Josh gives me a panicked look that says please don't cry. I quickly smile at him and speak hoarsely.

"Thanks."

He smiles back.

"You're welcome."

I stand there as we exchange glances until Josh finally breaks off.

"Well, you should get back out there. You have a paying job to do and all."

'I do, don't I?"

"Of which part of the description is not bringing me coffee."

"Bet your ass I won't."

--------

To be continued…


	4. East German cocktail waitress

TITLE: People Move On

AUTHOR: Micky Fine

DISCLAIMER: Check out the beginning.

SUMMARY: You read it. You're here. Continue

SPOILERS: Check out the first chapter. Then add Guns Not Butter.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just wanted to have a little bit of fun and fluff before we head into some heavy stuff. This chapter alternates Josh and Donna's POV. Reviews adored and welcomed.

"Joshua, are you kidding me?"

"No."

"Seriously?"

"Am I ever anything else?"

"Well, yesterday you managed to convince Margaret that all Georgia peaches were really imported from the former Soviet Union."

"Ok, fine so I'm not always serious."

She snorts at me.

"Well, that was very ladylike."

"I don't see how that's a problem because I'm definitely not going to look ladylike in that."

"C'mon Donna, it's for a good cause."

"Technically the function is for a good cause. You just want me there so that I'll remember names and take notes on who promised to give us money."

"Fine, but the ticket I bought for you will go towards said good cause so I don't see how you can turn me down."

"Well, once you see me in that you'll understand."

"Donna."

"Fine, but only because it's for the Children's Hospital."

I give her a dimpled grin.

"You're fantastic. You won't regret this."

"We'll see."

----

I flop onto my latest hotel room bed and sigh.

"Donna?"

"Hey C.J."

C.J. peeks out of the bathroom, holding hair on top of her head with one hand and a large baby blue bow in the other. Spying the garment bag in my hand she grins.

"So, what did Josh get you?"

"How did you…you were in on this?"

C.J. lets out a small giggle.

"I only told him your dress size and shoe size. The rest was all him."

I groan.

"Hey, it can't be that bad. I sent Sam to go pick one out for me and now I'm going as Bo Peep."

I look at C.J. incredulously until she reaches under her bed and pulls out a large crook. At the sight of the large wooden staff we both burst into hysterical laughter. Between gasps for air I motion for C.J. to open the bag next to me. She does and after seeing the outfit inside starts laughing even harder. We've both collapsed on the floor, tears streaming from our eyes when there's a knock at the door. I muster enough strength to get up and open it.

"Donna."

I continue to giggle in spite of myself.

"Hey Toby. You looking for C.J.?"

He nods.

"Hey, Bo Peep, Toby's here to see you."

C.J. manages to get off the floor and goes to greet Toby, still holding the bow.

"I'm going to go get dressed."

C.J. nods and turns to Toby. I grab my garment bag from where I left it on the bed and head into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later I emerge, tying an elastic around my other braid. Hearing Toby and C.J. still talking in the doorway I call out to them.

"Hey guys? What do you think?"

I do a slow twirl. I turn back to find Toby staring at me like he's lost his brain in the past five seconds. C.J. elbows him and he suddenly comes back to reality. He clears his throat.

"You look…umm…it's a nice…you're…you look fine."

C.J. glares at Toby and then turns to me.

"You look great, Donna."

"Thanks. Anyway, Toby, do you know if Josh is at the hospital already?"

"Yeah, he left fifteen minutes ago."

"Great. I'm gonna go pack his stuff and then I'll come back. Think you'll be ready in twenty minutes C.J.?"

"I will be, but I can't guarantee that my sheep will."

We both chuckle once more and then I saunter past Toby and down the hall. When I'm almost out of earshot I hear C.J. speak.

"Close your mouth Tobias."

----

C.J. and I walk into the ballroom filled with members of the local DNC, hospital board members and staff, and members of the Bartlet for America campaign. I glance around the room and my eyes are drawn to the stage. Above the podium is a large banner that appears to have been painted by children. It reads: The Annual Reinick Children's Hospital Masquerade Ball Fundraiser. I then survey the growing crowd and their costumes. I spy several clowns, a few princesses, and other similar stereotypical costumes. I turn to C.J.

"Ah, March in Vermont. A time when we give great speeches, eat pancakes with maple syrup, and allow our friends and co-workers to dress us in costumes that have a large circumference."

C.J. chuckles and is about to interrupt when I sense a new presence in my vicinity and then feel a familiar hand resting on the small of my back. I turn and feel my face break into a large smile.

"Well, hello, sir. And just who might you be?"

"Donna, I'm disappointed. You can't tell from the umbrella?"

I look Josh up and down. He's wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and narrow black tie. Atop his head is a bowler and in his hand is an umbrella. I think for a brief moment and then speak.

"You're Steed."

C.J. is now intrigued.

"Who?"

Josh groans.

"C.J. you really shouldn't have asked. Now she's going to give you a history."

I glare at him and then turn to C.J.

"Josh is dressed as John Steed the male lead character of the classic British TV series The Avengers. Of course there was also the film made in 1998 based on the series that starred Ralph Fiennes, Uma Thurman, and Sean Connery. Of course, the show was greatly superior to the movie."

"Of course."

I turn back to Josh and find that somewhere during my speech he's gotten the same look that Toby had before. I pinch him lightly.

"Ow."

"You deserved it."

"I deserved to be pinched?"

"Well, when you stare at me like that you do."

"Sorry, it's just…"

"Yes, Joshua, I know. I have legs. Long legs. And this very delightful East German cocktail waitress outfit that you so thoughtfully picked out for me, displays them quite well. This just goes to show you that you should consult me before you pick a costume for me."

"Duly noted."

"Guten Abend, Donna."

I turn to find Sam striding towards our small group.

"Hey Sam. Are you just a Mountie or Dudley Do-Right?"

"Just a Mountie."

I smile. Sam turns to Josh.

"Listen, Governor Bartlet wants to go over some more health stats before the speech. We need you both."

C.J. immediately heads towards the backstage area. Josh squeezes my arm and then goes off with Sam. Just before he disappears, he turns and tips his hat to me. I smile. When he's gone behind the curtain I turn to find a waiter and grab a glass of champagne. Before wading into the crowd I mutter to myself under my breath.

"You can't fall for him."

----

I whistle as I join the rest of crowd who are giving a standing ovation for the wonderful speech Governor Bartlet just gave on his plan for improving Medicare. As he takes his wife's hand and heads backstage once again, I turn to find the chair beside me empty. Craning my neck, I attempt to find my missing assistant. I catch C.J.'s arm before she wanders onto the dance floor with Toby.

"Where's Donna?"

"I think she went to the bar to get a drink."

I nod and start heading in that direction. I am forced to halt when a large group of DNC members descend on me. Listening to them congratulate me on the Governor and his amazing speech I continue to scan the area around the bar for Donna. I'm rewarded for my efforts when I spot the blonde pigtail braids. Once again I find myself staring at the large expanse of her long legs exposed by the short skirt of her costume. My view is suddenly obstructed when a man dressed in large clown shoes, a white doctor's coat and an oversized stethoscope hanging around his neck approaches my assistant.

Continuing to nod as the DNC members pat me on the back and head off in search of Sam and Toby, I watch incredulously as this clownish doctor hands Donna a drink, rests his hand on her arm and whispers something in her ear. Donna flushes and looks uncomfortable and I suddenly feel a foreign sensation in my gut. I watch in disbelief as Donna attempts to move away from the buffoon and is prevented by the doctor's suddenly tight grip on her arm. I growl to no one.

"That's it."

I march up to my assistant and her new companion with a false smile plastered on my face.

"Donna, I've been looking for you."

Donna turns to me and I can see the relief in her eyes.

"Sorry, I just went to get a drink."

"That's fine. Who's your friend?"

I turn to the man next to Donna who amazingly still hasn't let go of her arm. I now notice that he's slightly unsteady on his feet. Great, he's drunk. Donna speaks for her companion when it becomes obvious that he's suddenly lost his ability to do so.

"This is Dr. Blackman. He's the head of the board at the hospital."

"It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Blackman."

He nods to me and then leers at Donna. Seeing that this guy isn't going to take a subtle hint, I place my hand around Donna's waist and pull gently. The idiot doctor doesn't let go and stumbles into Donna. Now I'm really annoyed. I'm just about to warn this guy that if he doesn't get his hands off my assistant he's going to become well acquainted with my fist when Sam comes up behind Donna.

"Is there a problem here folks?"

The doctor blanches at the sight of Sam in his garb and Donna immediately catches on.

"Actually, officer, this man here…"

Dr. Blackman finally manages to speak.

"I was just about to leave. I think my table finally got dessert. I'll see you later. Good evening officer."

And with that the idiot doctor wanders off into the crowd. I watch him walk away and then face Donna who is rubbing her arm lightly. I touch her back and speak to her softly.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I've had to deal with worse."

I look into her face for a long moment. She returns my gaze and apparently sees something there that makes her uncomfortable because she suddenly turns to Sam.

"Danke, Sam."

"Mit vergnügen, Donna."

"Ok, you've now exceeded my German vocabulary."

"It means with pleasure."

"Ah, well, I'm going to go get something to drink. You guys want anything?"

We both shake our hands.

"I'll be back in a minute then."

We both watch her head towards the bar. Once she starts talking to the bartender I turn to Sam while still keeping an eye on Donna.

"Thanks for that."

"Yeah, well, I saw you had the same face from when you slugged John Stameck during that party."

"He deserved it."

"Yes, he did, and I'm sure this guy did too. Only problem is that you're at a fundraiser and punching someone out to preserve the honor of your assistant would probably not be looked on highly by most of the people here."

"Probably."

I go back to watching Donna.

"She's pretty amazing isn't she?"

"Donna?"

"No, Wonder Woman. Yes, Donna."

"Yeah, she is, but can I say something to you without you getting angry or upset?"

"Sure."

"Donna's great and we all love her but she is your assistant. Your very young assistant. She's what, 24?"

"25."

"Fine. So she's endearing, young, and very attractive. Especially in that outfit. She's also your employee. And I get that you two are together for massive amounts of time and that means that you'll inevitably be close but we just want to make sure that you don't go out of bounds."

"Sam, I would never…"

"Ok. I believe you. Just remember what I said. Plus, let's not forget that Mandy would kill you."

I sigh.

"Yeah, ok, I got it."

"Got what?"

We both whirl around to find Donna holding a beer stein containing what appears to be champagne. I exchange looks with Sam.

"Well, we were just plotting how we're going to steal C.J.'s crook."

"You guys are awful. There's no way I'm taking part in your felony. I want some ice cream."

She starts to saunter off, but then turns around smiles at me and raises her stein in a salute of thanks. I nod in response and then watch her continue to walk away. Sam wanders off and I'm left watching Donna eat ice cream and giggling at something Toby's saying. I mutter under my breath.

"You can't fall for her."

----

I finish brushing my teeth and after giving myself one final glance in the mirror I head back into the main area of the hotel room I share with C.J. Giving my East German cocktail waitress outfit one final glance I seal it inside the garment bag and then turn towards my suitcase. We're leaving Vermont late tomorrow night after another function and while I've made sure Josh is packed, I'm nowhere near ready. I sigh as I survey the large pile of clothes that I've left on top of my luggage and then dive in.

I've finished folding almost all of my stuff when a sharp rapping on the door breaks the silence. Instead of opening the door, I call out.

"C'mon in. It's unlocked."

I hear the door open and close softly. I finish folding my third Bartlet for America t-shirt and then look up to see Josh standing rather awkwardly at the foot of my bed. He's changed out of his garb from this evening and is wearing jeans and a dark chocolate brown sweater. I avoid thinking about how good he looks and instead focus on what's making him look so uncomfortable.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"You came to see me."

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Did you have a reason or are you just drawn to my Tweety Bird pajamas?"

"Definitely the pajamas."

We chuckle and I feel the stiffness disappear from the room.

"So, is your suitcase packed to your satisfaction? I made sure to leave out clothes for you for tomorrow so that you wouldn't have rummage through it tomorrow and ruin all my work."

"Oh, yeah, it's great."

I look at him for a moment and find that he still seems to be struggling to say something.

"Josh?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you come here to talk about something else other than my pajamas and your suitcase?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you were all right after your encounter with Dr. Bozo this evening."

I smile softly over his concern.

"Like I said before, Josh, I'm fine. I've had worse run-ins with drunk, horny men before."

"I get that, but you shouldn't have to deal with that out here."

"On the campaign trail, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Josh, I know you revere campaigns as something divine, pure, whatever. But you're traversing America and although this country is ideal and I wouldn't live anywhere else, it does have its share of jerks. I just happened to run into one tonight. It's happened before, it'll happen again."

"Ok."

He smiles and then turns to go but before he reaches the short hall that leads to the door he turns back to face me.

"It's normal that I worry about you, right?"

I'm briefly astounded but then regain my composure.

"I think so. I mean I worry about you. I think it's just the natural result of us spending so much time together."

"Yeah, that's definitely it. Anyway, you're probably exhausted."

"Well, it is three in the morning."

Josh chuckles.

"Goodnight, Donna."

"Goodnight, Josh."

I watch him walk out. After the door clicks closed I flop back on my bed. I go over the entire evening in my head and recall the overwhelming concern I saw in Josh's eyes after he'd chased off the drunken doctor. I shiver at the intensity I saw there and then shake my head, trying to clear it of these thoughts. I sigh.

"This can't be happening."

----

I close the hotel room door behind me and then lean up against it. I go over the entire evening in my head, remembering everything from how amazing Donna looked to the thankful look she had in her eyes when I came up to her and Dr. Bozo to our conversation just now. Then I remember all of the other amazing days and nights I've spent with this woman in three different states, two tour buses, four airplanes, and thirty-five hotel rooms. And then the thought runs through my brain like one of those giant banner ads: you're involved with someone.

I inwardly cringe at the thought of Mandy. She's a great woman but spending time with her is so draining. And now I can't help but compare her with Donna. Where Mandy is harsh, Donna understands. Mandy is tiring, Donna energizes me. Mandy frequently leaves me feeling frustrated and annoyed. Donna makes me laugh and whenever I leave her I feel happier. Ok, I've got to stop this because if I keep thinking like this I'm going to start thinking things that are definitely inappropriate considering who Donna works for. You know, me.

I bang my head against the wall for a few seconds and then let out a long sigh.

"This can't be happening."

To be continued…


	5. Flowers and Chocolates for Pooky

TITLE: People Move On

AUTHOR: Micky Fine

DISCLAIMER: Blah, blah, blah. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Add a little bit of please don't sue me. Then stir in some I don't own them. Then enjoy the yummy goodness.

SUMMARY: If you haven't read it why are you here? Go back and read it!

SPOILERS: Check the first chapter.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: First of all, thank you to all you lovely people who reviewed. You're the reason I keep writing. This chapter is entirely from Josh's POV. Reviews placed on a pedestal and worshiped.

----

I wander into the Maine Bartlet for America office and muffle a yawn. No one should have to come in to work before eight o'clock, and yet I'm here at 7:30, after going to bed only three hours before. I stop at the coffeepot before continuing on my way to my office. As I carefully sip the steaming liquid I watch the sunlight begin to stream over the horizon and then squint in pain. Guess I'll be harboring some vampirish tendencies today.

I turn away from the windows and head towards the latest cubicle that has been labeled as my office. I'm only three feet away from the doorway when I hear familiar laughter. Instead of entering I stand at the window and watch my assistant sitting cross-legged in my chair and talking on my phone. Based on the fact that her suitcase is sitting just inside the door she didn't sleep at all last night but there she is nonetheless. I now know what the picture of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed should be in the dictionary: my assistant spinning around in my chair, talking on the phone and laughing at 7:35 in the morning.

I spend another few seconds standing in the doorway attempting to determine just who is on the other end of the line but find it impossible because she seems to only be swapping juvenile jokes.

"What did one snowman say to another snowman?"

Apparently the person on the other end is as baffled as I am.

"'Do you smell carrots?'"

Donna giggles but stops when I clear my throat.

"I have come to suck your blood."

She turns and gives me a wry smile.

"Well, Count Dracula has arrived. Yeah, that was him. I'll talk to you later this week, ok? Take care."

She hands me the phone and mouths to me, "Your parents." Then she pilfers my foam coffee cup and goes out to her desk, closing the door behind her.

I sit down in the chair Donna has just vacated and put the phone to my ear.

"Mom? Dad?"

"Joshua."

"Hey Dad, how are you?"

"I'm doing good today."

"That's great."

"I must say that your new assistant is a very charming young woman."

"Donna? How could you possibly know that? You've never even met her."

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

I smile, "Yeah, she's what you'd call charming. I'd more accurately describe her as annoying."

"Josh."

"Ok, she's charming."

"You're nice to that girl, Joshua?"

"Yeah, Dad, I am."

"Good, I like her. She makes me laugh."

"You talk to her frequently?"

My mother suddenly chimes in from the other line in our house.

"More often than we talk to you, Joshua."

"Well, I am kind of busy trying to get Governor Bartlet elected, Mom."

"Donna helps you and she's not too busy."

"Ok, fine, I promise to call more often."

"Good."

"So, what's going on up there?"

"Julie just got engaged. Her fiancé is a veterinarian and has three cats and two dogs. I don't know how you're uncle will survive visiting her seeing as he's allergic."

I chuckle, remembering the last time my uncle encountered a fluffy cat and ended up sneezing for fifteen minutes.

"Tell Julie congratulations from me."

"Yes, I will Joshua. Now, when are you going to tell us you're getting married?"

"As soon as I know myself Mom."

My father now chimes in on my parents' latest favorite subject: my future marriage and their potential grandchildren.

"What about Donna?"

"Dad, what about Donna? She's my assistant."

"So what? I married my assistant."

This is scarily true. My parents met when my mother started working for my father as his secretary. I quickly skirt past this idea and tune back in to what my father is saying.

"Is she Jewish?"

"No."

"Ah, well, no one's perfect. But otherwise she's a very lovely girl?"

"Yes, Dad, aside from not being Jewish, Donna is lovely. Would you like me to set you two up?"

My father gives a deep laugh that always causes me to smile.

"No, Joshua, I already found my perfect woman."

I can almost hear my mother smile and my own smile deepens at the thought of just how happy my parents still are.

"Now, Joshua, from what I hear from Leo, Donna is truly amazing."

"Well, she's been very helpful."

"She organized your office?"

"Yes."

"I love her already."

I laugh at my parents and then look up when I hear a tap at my window. I look up to see Donna making an exaggerated sad face and then pointing at her watch. I nod in acknowledgement and then return my attention back to my conversation.

"Ok, while this has been fun, I have to go back to work now."

"All right, Joshua. You stay out of trouble and make us proud."

"Yes sir."

"And take care of Donna."

I smile at the attachment my father already has to my assistant.

"I promise."

"We love you, Joshua."

"Love you guys. Bye."

I hang up and seconds later Donna enters my office bearing a folder which she places in front of me. Then she exaggeratedly drains what I assume was my coffee cup and throws it in the trash while making a sound of satisfaction. I glare at her but she studiously ignores me as she begins to thumb through a carton of files sitting on the floor of my office. I start to read the file she just gave me but I'm still a little distracted after my phone call from my parents.

"My parents are quite taken with you."

"That happens, its one of the side effects of my charm."

She smiles at me cheekily and then goes back to thumbing through her box.

"Do you talk to them often?"

Donna's reply is somewhat distant as she is also reading one of the files while she speaks.

"A few times a week I guess."

"You talk to my parents more often than I do?"

"You're busy sometimes. They still want to know what's going on with you. I update them. While maintaining campaign secrets, I assure you."

Donna now walks behind me, pulls a large binder off the shelf and begins to rifle through it. I watch her while still going over my conversation with my parents. I suddenly realize I came in early for a reason and shake my head to clear it of thoughts stirred up by the call from Connecticut. I turn my attention back to the file Donna gave me and which she has already highlighted for important details. I'm already making multiple mental notes when I sense that Donna is about to leave. Without looking up, I speak quietly.

"Thanks for talking to them. And thanks for making him laugh."

"You're welcome."

I hear the door click closed and return my attention to the folder.

----

I yawn, stretch, glance at my watch, and feel my eyes widen when I realize that it's almost 1:30 a.m.

"Donna."

A soft, "Mm-hmm," wafts its way up from the floor where my assistant is sitting cross-legged.

"It's kind of late."

"So?"

"Maybe you should go back to the hotel. No, wait, you haven't even been to the hotel yet. That sentence should have been you should go to the hotel."

"Ok, I'm not even going to bother mocking your sentence structure there and just skip on ahead to more important things. Are you leaving?"

"No."

"Then I'll stay."

"Donna, you don't have to prove yourself to me anymore. I know how hard you're willing to work. But I don't want you to collapse from exhaustion. I've had my fill of your collapsing."

"Funny. I'll go when you go."

I sigh and hear her give one in reply. I lean back in my chair, briefly consider going back to reading the latest polling data and decide against it. But somehow I'm reluctant to leave this small office where Donna and I are encompassed in the pool of light my desk lamp is emitting. It's comfortable and I know all that awaits me at the hotel is glaring fluorescent lights and that awful hotel smell. In an effort to avoid the inevitable retreat to room 378 I finally ask the question that has been nagging at me for over a week.

"Why don't you bring me coffee?"

"That's been bugging you for a while now, hasn't it?"

"Yes."

"I thought so."

It is silent and I can hear Donna shuffling papers around. I roll my chair to the edge of my desk so that Donna is within my sightline. She studiously ignores me.

"Donna?"

"What, you actually want an answer?"

"Yes."

"Don't you have work to do or something?"

"Nah, I'm done for the night."

"Then let's go to the hotel."

"Not until you answer my question."

"That's not fair. You're manipulating my dependence on you for transportation."

"What can I say, I'm a manipulative guy."

"No you're not."

Her tone has suddenly changed from playful to serious and I alter my mood accordingly.

"You say that like you've known one."

"Oh, yeah."

She gives a harsh laugh that has no real humor in it.

"Brett was very talented. Everyone said so. He was a talented physician. And he was charming. Everyone liked him instantly. Including me. He swept me off my feet with his smile, his laugh, his charm, and his talents. And the next thing I know he's convinced me to drop out of school until he's finished his residency. What I hadn't really noticed until about year four was that he was a master manipulator. He could get anyone to do anything and he was especially adept at making sure I did just what he wanted. You know when I made that realization?"

"When?"

"I was getting him his coffee, with exactly two and a half sugars and one cream, to have while he read his morning paper."

"And that's why you don't bring me coffee?"

"It's weird, I know…"

"No, Donna, it's fine. You stick to it. The only thing I ask is that you offer to bring coffee when I have guests in the office."

"No problem. It would be inhospitable not to."

I smile and we sit silently for several minutes. I'm staring at the ceiling when I let the question that's been hanging in the air slip through my lips.

"Why did he break up with you?"

I'm surprised when she doesn't tell me that it's none of my business. Instead, she leans back against the wall and stares off into space. Her face suddenly loses its expressiveness and I can see that she's attempting detachment.

"He said that we didn't fit anymore and asked me to move out. So, I packed up my clothes, told him I'd send someone to pick up my furniture and my books and left. Then I went to the bank and discovered that he had cleaned out our co-checking account. That was a hard blow. I'd been saving for a new car. Just before I left, one of my friends told me that he'd been dating some other woman for almost a year."

I'm briefly overwhelmed by an almost inexplicable rage. I've heard stories worse than this and yet the idea that someone had stole from and cheated on Donna appalls me. Donna sees the expression on my face and shrugs her shoulders as if to say, "What are you going to do? It's too late now." I give her a forced smile.

"What can I say? I'm an expert at skimming the scum off the top."

I laugh shortly.

"C'mon, Donnatella. I'd better take you home. You haven't slept since yesterday."

"Actually, I haven't slept since the day before yesterday but there's no real need to quibble over a couple hours."

"Did you just say quibble?"

"It's late."

"Or early."

She groans.

"Joshua, let's leave that one for tomorrow."

"Sure."

I help Donna slip into her coat, grab my own, and turn off the light as I close the door behind us.

----

I walk into my office for the first time today around noon. My morning has been spent talking up the governor to various potential contributors, having three breakfasts, five coffees, and one early lunch. I'm stuffed and in need of some amusement. Maybe Donna has some inane trivia to share. She usually does.

I go into the main area of the campaign office. Most of the staff has gone out for lunch today leaving the building relatively quiet. Of course, there is that one volunteer in the corner with the photocopier looking increasingly frazzled, but he doesn't really count. With all this silence, I'm surprised to see a small crowd around my assistant's desk. As I approach I recognize Margaret, Ginger, Cathy, Carol, and C.J.

"Well, he definitely has some good taste."

"Who has good taste, C.J.?"

My voice causes the flock of women to whirl around and give me an amazing range of looks from startled to guilty. The guiltiest face is that of my assistant, which puzzles me because I'm pretty sure she hasn't done anything wrong today. Or ever. But don't tell her I said that, she'd hold it over me.

"C.J.?" I prod.

"Umm…I have to go talk to Danny. I'll see you later Donna. Save some of those for tonight. I have intentions of raiding the mini-fridge and those would go great with a certain tiny beverage."

C.J. quickly skirts past me and is soon followed by the other women who all murmur excuses and then head off to their own desks. After watching the mass exodus I turn back to Donna who gives me a false smile and then holds a box out to me.

"Chocolate?"

"No thanks."

I watch her as she places the box of Godiva chocolates in a drawer of her desk. Inside I spy something fuzzy that I pull out before she can shut it again.

"Josh!" she cries, reaching out for the stuffed bear but I hold it just out of her reach. Then I read the embroidery on the chest of the bear.

"I love you, Pooky. Donna, who's Pooky?"

"Joshua, so help me, if you don't give me back that bear I'm going to tell your mother…"

"Ok, hold on. First of all, did you just call me Joshua?"

"Yes."

This briefly throws me mentally. The only people who have ever called me Joshua are my parents. I've never liked anyone else calling me that. But when Donna said that just now it didn't bother me at all. Weird.

"Josh?"

"Yes?"

"Are you done pondering my calling you by your first name?"

"Yes."

"Good. Can I have my bear back now?"

"No. You threatened to tell my mother something. What exactly would you tell her to get me into trouble?"

"That you were mean to me."

"Damn. That would work."

"I know."

Donna gives me a smug little grin and then before I realize what's happened, plucks the bear out of my hands and returns it to the drawer. I'm about to act extremely juvenile and re-open the drawer just to steal the bear back again when I spy the bouquet on her desk. The rather large bouquet on her desk. In fact, the overly conspicuous bouquet that I can't believe I missed seeing before. It's huge and holds flowers I've never seen before. And this massive floral collection is sitting in what looks like an Italian marble urn. What the hell is going on here?

"Donna, what are those?"

"Josh, I know some of them are exotic but I thought being the brilliant mind that you are, you could recognize flowers when you see them."

"Who sent them?"

"None of your business."

"That was a little hostile, Donna."

"Well, Josh, it really isn't any of your business."

"I don't think so. You see, these flowers seem to have affected your emotional state, and as your boss and your friend it's my job to aid you in your time of perturbation."

"You just want to snoop."

"Not true."

Donna gives me a withering glance, but I ignore it in favor of having just discovered the card in the greenhouse residing on my assistant's desk. Although the bouquet itself is gigantic, the card is just the regular size. I seize it from its holder and read it.

Donna- 

_I was so wrong. Please forgive me. Come home. I miss you._

_Love,_

_B._

"Who's B?"

"Josh, that's…"

"…none of your business," I finish for her. "And yet it is my business because all of these gifts seem to be distracting you from your work."

"I'm on my lunch break, Josh. They aren't distracting me from my work because I'm not working during my lunch break. And in case you haven't noticed, when I am working I spend a fair amount of time in your office, where, how novel, none of my gifts are."

"Ok. I'm sorry. I'll stop snooping."

"Thank you."

I turn to go back to my office when suddenly it dawns on me.

"'Love, B.'"

"Sorry, Josh, I missed that."

"The card. It said, 'Love, B.' 'B' is Brett. Brett is Dr. Freeride. The jerk who broke up with you is trying to get you back."

"Josh, don't call him a jerk."

"Donna…" I look at her mystified. Almost a week ago she was telling me how her boyfriend manipulated her, stole her money, and cheated on her. And now she tells me not to call him a jerk. I'm about to point this all out to her when C.J. sweeps past me, grabs my arm, and pulls me into her office. She calls back to Donna over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I just need to borrow him for a bit."

"Keep him. I could use some peace and quiet. For the next month at least."

I'd be hurt by this parting shot from Donna except that right now I'm in mortal fear of being torn apart by C.J. She points at a chair and then carefully perches on her own. She seems to be staring through me for a moment and then refocuses on my face.

"Josh, you've got to leave her alone."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you're her friend and you're worried about her. So am I. We both know this guy's a jerk. She knows it too."

"Are you sure? 'Cause just now she was telling me…"

"I know, Josh. But you have to think. She's young. She's spent six years with this guy who after being without her for almost two months is suddenly desperate to have her back. She's conflicted and confused. And I know you want to help her but she has to work this out on her own."

"But, C.J., this guy is a king manipulator. He's going to…"

"Donna's a smart girl. She knows when she's being manipulated. And despite what you think, she does realize that's what's going on right now. Just let her work it out on her own and everything will turn out fine."

"You promise?"

"Sure."

"That's not how it works and you know it. Now, do you promise?"

"I promise everything will turn out fine. Will you leave now?"

"Sure."

I get up to go by C.J.'s voice halts me.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a good friend."

I smile and leave her office.

----

I must admit that Donna is the queen of the cold shoulder. I've never felt so frozen in my entire life. The Human Popsicle, that's what I'm changing my name to. I'm in the process of planning how I can get Donna to forgive me without having to apologize when my phone rings. I'm about to answer it when I notice the area code on the call display. Then I smile. Donna will definitely be in a better mood after this and I won't have to do anything.

"DONNA!"

My assistant peeks her head into my office, a large stack of faxes in her hands.

"Yes, Josh?"

"The phone is ringing."

She glares at me and then at the phone when it rings again.

"Well, could you maybe answer it? I've got my hands full."

"I would, except you'd still end up answering the phone."

"What do you mean?"

"The call's from Wisconsin."

A wide smile lights up Donna's face. She hurriedly sets down her stack of papers and scoops up the phone. I hear her greet the person on the other end of the line as I exit my office, closing the door behind me. I'm about to spy through the window when Sam approaches me.

"Hey, Josh."

"Sam."

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're outside your office while Donna is inside it, on the phone. Leo didn't give her your job already, did he?"

"No, he didn't give it to her. She's got a call from Wisconsin."

"On your phone line?"

"Well, back when Donna first started working for me she didn't have a phone line but she wanted to make sure that her parents could contact her if they needed to. So, I said she could give them my number. And that's what she's done at all the rest of the campaign offices."

"Ah, so you're hoping that by talking to her parents she'll forget all about whatever you did to annoy her today."

"How do you know about that? You weren't even here."

"Donna came by my office looking out for a co-conspirator to kill you. I think she and Toby may have teamed up. You'd better watch your back."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"My pleasure."

I'm about to ask Sam about the latest speech he's working on when Donna suddenly bursts out of my office. She starts walking past us but then, as if she suddenly noticed our presence, turns to me with the oddest expression on her face.

"Are you ok, Donna?"

"Yeah," she says distractedly.

"All's quiet on the home front?"

"What? Oh, yes, everyone at home is fine."

She's quiet for a bit, allowing Sam and I to exchange concerned glances. Sam attempts to bring Donna out of whatever she's in.

"Donna?"

"Oh, hey, Sam."

She gives him a brief smile that doesn't reach her eyes. I can practically see her mind working at light speed, churning over the problem it's been presented with.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind if I went back to the hotel early today? I'm still really tired. Guess it just goes to show that I should grab all the sleep I can get."

"Sure, go take a nap. I'll see you later."

Donna nods and starts to head towards the coat rack when I lightly grip her arm.

"Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"Everything's ok?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine."

She gives me the same smile she gave Sam and then gives my arm a light squeeze. I let her go and watch her walk out. She gives me a small wave as she slips out the door. Once she disappears from sight I get the oddest feeling like I may never see her again. Shaking my head to clear it of such absurd ideas, I turn my attention back to Sam.

----

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

I roll over to find Sam standing in the doorway of my hotel room.

"Sam, unless you've brought me coffee…"

Sam smiles and places a take-out cup on my bedside table.

"Ok, so I won't be killing you today."

"Thank you, that takes watching my back off my to do list."

As I pick up the cup of steaming liquid, I notice a slip of paper folded in half bearing my name in a scrawl that has become very familiar to me.

"Sam, did Donna come in here last night?"

"Yeah."

"Did she seem like she was still mad about the thing?"

"No, she didn't say anything about that. She had just come in to see you but you were dead to the world at that point and she didn't want to wake you. I offered to pull out the foghorn but she refused. She still seemed to be in that daze she had yesterday afternoon. She just came in, left the note, gave me the wateriest smile I've ever seen and then rushed out of here."

I apprehensively open the note and read the brief message.

Josh- 

_I have to leave. I don't know what else to say. Thank you for everything._

_-Donnatella_

"Son of a bitch!"

I crumple up the note in my fist and slam it against the table.

"Josh, what's going on?"

"He got to her. He got to her with the flowers, the candy, and that stupid bear."

I flatten the note out and read it once again. And then suddenly it hits me.

"The phone call."

"What?"

"The phone call from Wisconsin. It wasn't her parents, it was Dr. Freeride. That son of a bitch!"

I'm about to continue raging when I suddenly change my mind and instead read the note for the third time. C.J. shortly thereafter comes in behind Sam, looking worried.

"Have you guys seen Donna? She was here when I fell asleep but when I got up this morning she and all her bags were missing."

"She's gone," I whisper to myself.

"What did you say, Josh?"

"She left. She went back to him. She left."

To be continued…


	6. Mental Nagging, Beers and Independence

TITLE: People Move On

AUTHOR: Micky Fine

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never ever will be. Such sadness overwhelms me.

SUMMARY: You read that already, do you really want another one?

SPOILERS: See first chapter.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to all the very lovely people who reviewed; your comments were greatly appreciated. Now I know everyone is very eager for Donna to return but we're going to have to prolong that for just a bit. This chapter is entirely from Donna's POV. The words in _italics_ are for…well, I'm sure you can figure out to whom those belong. Reviews framed and placed on my Hall of Praise.

--------

I open my eyes and am immediately enthralled with the ceiling tiles above my head. They aren't right for a hotel room. And now that I think about it, this bed is too soft and the duvet is far too plush. I briefly consider the theory that I've been transported out of my Maine hotel room to some hotel heaven by aliens when I suddenly remember where I am. I'm back in Wisconsin. I'm back in my old apartment in which nothing, including the patterns drawn in the dust on the top of the dresser, has changed. I'm back with Brett.

I know the last one is a bit of a shocker. Even for me. But he called me a week and a half ago and told me how much he loved me. That he wasn't serious about the girl with whom Stephanie had seen him. I still wasn't going to come back. And then he pulled out the big gun. He proposed. He said he'd realized what a huge mistake he'd made and how he wanted me in his life permanently. I came back.

I pull my hand out from under the covers and study my engagement ring. It's gold with a rather conspicuous diamond nestled amongst emeralds. It's a little too flashy for my tastes but Brett seems to love it and I don't want to have a fight over an engagement ring after being here for such a short time.

I roll over to face the clock and start at the fact that it's almost eleven o'clock in the morning. Then I remember that I don't have to go to work. I left. To come back I had to leave and I didn't even give anyone a decent goodbye. I stifle the urge to call Josh. I've had to do that more times than I can count since I returned to Wisconsin and it hasn't gotten any easier. In fact, it gets harder every time. I place my hand on the phone and I'm prepared to dial the familiar number when I hear the door slam and Brett calls out my name. I slowly draw my hand back, roll out of bed and wander in the direction of the kitchen.

"Good morning, Pooky."

"_Pooky? You've got to be kidding me. Could someone gag me right now?"_

"Hey."

He kisses me and then saunters off towards the fridge. I casually thumb through the newspaper on the table, watching him out of the corner of my eye. This should feel normal. I should want this. I'm going to be doing this every day for the rest of my life.

"_The rest of your life? He's going to call you Pooky every morning? Are you really sure you prefer this over doing research on the voting trends in northern Maine?"_

Why is it I can only think about what I'd be doing on the campaign right now? Why is it that Josh has somehow taken up residence in my brain?

I shake my head, hoping to rid it of mental Josh's nagging and turn to Brett.

"I thought you'd be at work all day today."

"Oh, I'm going back. I just thought I'd come home and have lunch with my best girl."

"That's sweet."

"Puh-lease."

I seat myself at the kitchen table while Brett makes BLT's at the counter. I find myself searching the paper for news of the campaign and I'm not disappointed. On page six there's an article on the growing support in the Democratic Party for Governor Bartlet. The photo is from an event we did just before I left. In the foreground, the Governor is shaking hands with one of the local teachers but I'm surprised to see Josh and myself in the background. We're smothering laughter and I try to remember why. Looking at the caption of the photograph I suddenly remember. The teacher who is with the Governor is named Mr. Snodgrass. Now that I think about it, the name isn't that funny.

"_If you were operating on only four hours of sleep it would still be funny. Hilarious even."_

"Honey, can you pass me the scissors?"

"Sure."

Brett hands me the scissors and glances at what I'm reading. Then he gives me a long look.

"I thought you were over the whole politics thing."

"What do you mean?"

"I just thought that since you've come back the whole campaign charade would disappear."

"Charade?"

"Donna, I know you only joined that campaign so that I'd realize how much I needed you."

"_Is he always this egotistical?"_

"Brett, that's not why I worked on the campaign."

He gives me a skeptical look.

"It's not."

"Ok, Donna, I believe you."

"_Somehow, I don't think he does._"

"Besides, just because I don't work for Bartlet for America anymore doesn't mean I can't take an interest in the campaign. I made friends there and I want to know how they're doing."

"How many good friends could you have possibly made with a bunch of boring and corrupt politicians?"

"_Hey!"_

"They were neither of those things, Brett. Those are good people trying to ensure that a good man has the chance to run this country."

"_Thanks, Donna."_

"Whatever, let's not talk about it anymore."

"No, Brett, I'm not finished."

Brett gazes at me coolly and places my sandwich and a glass of juice before me. The ice in his eyes causes a chill to run up and down my spine and I feel my will falter.

"Yes, you are."

"Ok, I'm done," I murmur.

"_Donna! Don't let that jerk push you around."_

I ignore mental Josh, attempt to lock him up in a corner of my mind and turn my attention to my lunch. While chewing I place the newspaper and scissors on the chair besides me with the intent of adding the article to my collection of campaign paraphernalia I have in a shoebox in my underwear drawer.

We finish eating and Brett seems to have warmed up a little bit so I decide to broach the subject that's been on my mind ever since I got back.

"Brett, can I show you something before you go back to work?"

"Sure, but quickly. I have a consult in half an hour."

I rush into the living room and pull out the catalogues I've stowed in my half of the bookcase. Brett is standing in the front hall and gives a sigh of impatience that I can hear as I open a catalogue to one of the pages I've marked with a Post-it tab. I scurry towards the hall and place the glossy college course calendar before my fiancé.

"What's this?"

"Well, you'll be done your residency in May and I thought that I'd take a couple spring courses to get back into scholarly mode."

Brett briefly glances at the political science, government, and history courses I've highlighted in the catalogue and then gives me a look I don't understand.

"What do you think?"

"I think I can't get into this with you right now. We'll talk about this tonight."

"Ok."

I lock the door behind Brett when he exits the apartment. Then I grab up my course calendar and plop down into our overstuffed couch. I skim the listings again and find a few more courses that sound fascinating which I subsequently highlight. I attempt to squash the gnawing feeling in my gut and to reassure myself I speak aloud.

"Everything's going to be fine. He'll finish his residency. I'll finish college. We'll get married and live happily ever after."

This briefly assuages my fears until my own damn Jiminy Cricket, voiced by the annoying Josh Lyman, pipes up.

"Happily ever after? The two of you can't even have lunch without him acting like an insensitive, egotistical, self-centered, misogynistic jerk. I really don't think 'My Blue Heaven' is in the cards for you two. Get out now."

I resist the urge to beat my head against the table repeatedly and instead simply smother mental Josh. I definitely don't need to imagine my former boss's comments on my life. I'm sure someone with a medical license would consider it unhealthy.

----

Brett comes home late while I'm watching a re-run of Bewitched. He goes into the kitchen without greeting me. I hear the fridge door open and close and then the hum of the microwave. There's the brief rattle of silverware in the drawer and then Brett re-enters the living room and sits down on the couch beside me, scooping up the remote as he does so. Before even taking a bite he changes the channel to a demolition derby in Kentucky. I swallow my annoyance at his lack of consideration and simply wait for him to talk to me.

And I wait.

And I wait.

He doesn't speak to me until nearly two hours after he's been home. I'm in the bath, trying to avoid the temptation of playing with the bubbles. Not trying very hard mind you. I've already made myself a bubble tiara when he pokes his head in and asks for admittance. I let him in and idly move bubbles from one hand to another as he begins to talk to me.

"Hey, Donna. I'm sorry I was so short with you at lunch today."

I take this opportunity to give him my own cold shoulder. I can dish it out just as well as he can.

"Oh, c'mon Donna, don't be like that. I didn't mean to insult what you did for that Governor guy and I'm sure all the people there are very nice. I think I'm just a little jealous that they can still influence you."

"What do you mean?"

"I just feel like you're not sure that you really want to be here and that you'd rather be in some cramped building with 300 other people who all want to elect some man from New Hampshire."

"Oh, Brett, I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you feel like that. Besides, I came back to you, didn't I? And I'm never going to leave. I love you."

"I love you too."

He kisses me and afterwards swipes some bubbles off my chin. He walks out and I smile as I sink back down into my tub. This time everything will work. We'll be happy and we'll get married and everything will be just fine.

"_Sure."_

"Shut up," I say to no one but the Josh in my head.

----

"Brett?"

"Yeah, Pooky?"

"Can I talk to you about something before I leave?"

"You're going out?"

"I told you, I'm going to spend the weekend with Gram."

"Oh, right. What's up?"

"Well, I hate to keep bringing this up but I was wondering if you'd thought any more about my taking spring courses."

"Not really, Donna, no."

"Oh."

"I just don't see why you want to take any courses anyways. We're going to be married in November and you don't really need a college degree to be married."

"But Brett, when I dropped out you said…"

"I know what I said. And if you really want to go to college I won't stop you but I still don't think you need a degree to be a housewife and raise kids."

"A housewife? When did we decide that I would be staying home? I thought I was going to be working."

"Pooky, you won't need to work. I'm a doctor. Besides you worked enough when you put me through school."

"But what if I want to work?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

I'm about to explain to my apparently very dense fiancé my desire to obtain a degree and continue working when I catch sight of the clock on the wall.

"Damn, I need to go if I want to get to Gram's at a decent hour. I'll call you when I get there."

"No, don't. I probably won't be home. I promised some of the guys I'd meet them for some drinks down at The Grilled Cheese."

The Grilled Cheese is Brett's favorite bar. I don't understand why, it smells funny, all the drinks are ridiculously expensive and the service sucks. But he likes to go there anyway.

"I'll call you tomorrow morning then."

"No earlier than eleven."

"Ok. Bye."

I give him a quick peck on the cheek; grab my overnight bag and my keys and head out the door.

----

I love driving at night. I know that may seem odd but I find it relaxing. Surrounded by darkness, I feel like I'm encompassed in a warm comfy bubble in the middle of space somewhere. It's a comfortable and reassuring isolation.

I'm only ten miles outside of Madison and I have at least an hour and a half of driving ahead of me. I'm forced to guiltily admit, even if it is only to myself, that it's relief to have a weekend away from Brett. Maybe it's just the time we've spent apart but we seem to fight more now. And I've always got the thought in the back of my head that I can't remember why I left such an amazing job for this guy. But then he does something fantastically sweet or charming and then I remember. He loves me and that's why I came back and why I'm staying.

Fifteen miles from Madison I'm humming along with a song on the radio and tapping the steering wheel when I hear the car ahead of me honk. I can't see what he's honking at or why he just swerved but I turn down my music and start searching the road and the ditches on both sides for potential wildlife hazards. And then I see it.

It's a large black sedan with its headlights off driving towards me. Well, weaving towards me would be more accurate. It's immediately obvious that the driver is drunk. I honk, hoping he'll slow down or stop. He does neither but continues to come towards me, possibly faster than before. I decide that continuing to drive is safer than stopping and being unable to avoid this drunken menace. I continue driving and flip my headlights hoping that maybe the driver will get the hint. He doesn't. The car is now maybe only twenty feet from me when suddenly he swerves into my lane.

I don't even have time to swear as I swerve into the ditch. The idiot in the other car now returns back to his own lane. I sigh in relief and turn off my engine. I pull my hands off the wheel. They're shaking slightly and I try to breathe deeply. I've only just calmed down enough to consider continuing to Gram's when the whole car shakes, there's a crunching sound from my car door, and my whole body is wrenched by gravity towards the opposite side of the car. As I stare dazedly out the window I realize I've been hit.

----

I wince and give a hiss of pain as the paramedic tries to rotate my ankle. He stops quickly, writes something down on a chart and sits down on the bench bolted down on one side of the ambulance.

"What's the verdict?"

"You should ask the doctor that when we get to the hospital."

"Yeah, but he's probably going to tell me exactly what you've written down on that chart so how about you just tell me?"

"Fine. It looks like you have a minor sprain. And I think you're in a little bit of shock."

"Well, try being T-boned by a minivan while parked in a ditch and then having your car roll onto its side. You might be shocked too."

"Ms. Moss, you don't need to be hostile."

"I'm sorry. I just don't see why I need to go to the hospital. I'm not seriously hurt."

"I can't tell you that for certain. The doctors at the hospital are going to want to do a few more tests just to make sure that you've got nothing more than a sprained ankle."

"Fine. You win. Do you mind if I call my fiancé so that he can come pick me up?"

"Nah."

I call Brett's cell phone and he picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Brett, it's Donna."

"You're not there already are you?"

"No. Brett, honey, I don't want you to worry but I was in a car accident."

"You were in an accident?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way to the hospital right now. Can you meet me there and then drive me home? I won't be able to drive to Gram's. My car's wrecked and I have a sprained ankle."

"Sure, I'll leave now."

"Thanks, Brett. Love you."

"Bye."

I hang up and smile at the paramedic. He smiles back and says, "We're almost there. An hour tops and you should be home again."

"Great."

----

I've been here almost three hours. Three hours. Not because I've had to wait or because the doctors are direly concerned about me. I was whisked to a doctor immediately and given a clean bill of health in less than thirty minutes. No, I've been waiting here because Brett hasn't shown up yet. I'm about to call for a cab when he suddenly waltzes into the waiting room where I've been sitting in the most uncomfortable plastic chair in creation.

He looks around and is about to approach a nurse when I call out his name.

"Brett!"

"Donna!"

He rushes over to me, scoops me up in a hug and kisses me. I'm enjoying this exuberant greeting when it hits me. His mouth tastes like beer. I pull away quickly.

"Brett, where have you been?"

"Oh, Donna I was so worried about you. How's your ankle? Was there anything else wrong?"

"Apart from my ankle I'm just fine. Now where were you?"

"I was coming here. Traffic was awful."

"Brett, it does not take three hours to drive from the apartment to the hospital. You can walk here in ten minutes. Where were you?"

"Well, I went to find flowers but all the shops were closed and…"

"Nice try. Your mouth tastes like a beer. You went to The Grilled Cheese with the guys tonight didn't you? That's where you've been. You stopped for a beer before coming to get your fiancée."

"Is that such a big deal? I did promise the guys I would meet them."

"You stopped for a beer, Brett!"

"I'm sorry."

I roll my eyes.

"Brett, this isn't going to work."

"What do you mean?"

"You and me. We just don't fit anymore. We can't get married if you're more concerned about meeting the guys for a beer than you are about your fiancée in the hospital."

"Oh, Donna, don't be this way."

"Yes, Brett, I am going to be this way. Now if you would leave that would make me very happy. I'll have my brothers come and pick up my stuff from the apartment next week."

"Donna!"

"Goodbye, Brett."

I watch Brett walk away and then hobble over to the pay phone to call a cab.

"_YES! Goodbye, Dr. Freeride!"_

I smile.

----

I timidly step into this unfamiliar campaign office in New York City. A helpful volunteer I'd called in the Maine office yesterday had told me that Josh and Toby had come here to prepare for Super Tuesday. I hang my coat up on the rack near the door and start orientating myself.

After getting the basic lay of the land I head for the coffeepot. I will definitely need caffeine before I can face Josh. However, when I'm only a few feet away from the corner where the pot and the associated paraphernalia are situated a familiar figure swoops in. Josh. I feel the butterflies begin to do the polka in my stomach but squaring my shoulders I decide now is as good a time as any other to approach him.

I close the distance. Timidly I touch his shoulder.

"Josh?"

To be continued…


End file.
